


Lacking Humanity (1)

by iamisaac



Series: Lacking Humanity/Like Father, Like Son/Humanity's Son [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 04:19:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5233880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Author's Note: AU in which Remus wakes at the end of the war to find himself... well, you'll see... Part 1, but works as a story in its own right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacking Humanity (1)

Remus awoke to a heavy feeling around his neck. As the waves of nausea grew fainter, he was aware of the coldness of the floor on which he was lying. Slowly, he sat up, and was once more aware of the heavy feeling of metal against his neck, and as he raised his hand, he felt the collar, tightly locked in place, anchored – and through it Remus himself – to the wall with a chain of blackly linked metal.

Awareness came back; memories of the last stand. Voldemort laughing as eighteen year old Harry faced him, alone and painfully young; everywhere he looked, another Weasley dying in the blazes of fighting around him – the helpless realisation that this time victory was darting out of reach and that there was nothing he could do about it except to keep fighting, keep trying. Then, finally, the pain as a shadowy figure in Death Eater robes stood over him as he fell, and he knew that his end had come.

He put a hand to his head. But his end hadn’t come. Instead, he was chained to a wall in what was clearly a cell of some kind. One wall was covered in thick silver bars, with a lock making it clear that part of it opened as a door.

“Chained…” he murmured.

“Like an animal,” agreed a smooth, hateful voice. “But then that is exactly what you are, isn’t it, Remus Lupin?”

Remus’s hands balled instinctively, as he made to rise to his feet. As he did so, he realised for the first time that he was naked. Naked, and chained by the neck. Taking a breath, he forced himself to stand, and looked at the newcomer, his captor. Lucius Malfoy, lips curled, giving him the dismissive stare of one who knew himself to be in control. Ignoring Lucius’s comment, he said quietly

“What am I doing here, Malfoy?”

“That’s Mr. Malfoy to you – or if you’re very good, I might just let you call me Master,” responded his captor, the mocking sneer still on his lips.

“What am I doing here?” Remus repeated steadily.

Lucius opened the barred door and walked in, leaning against the far wall and watching Remus.

“Oh,” he breathed softly, “perhaps I just wanted a pet. After all, I already have the lapdog, according to your erstwhile friend Black. Perhaps I decided a wolf would be interesting, too…”

Remus felt the anger inside him and refused to give it purchase. Malfoy wanted him to shout, wanted him to lose it. He would not give him that gratification.

“People like to keep animals,” continued Lucius, idly. “Other people like cats; I prefer a more – ah - interesting species.”

“I am not an animal.” 

Remus heard his voice respond bitterly despite himself.

“Oh you are, you are,” assured Lucius contemptuously. “And soon you will acknowledge it yourself.”

He turned abruptly and left the room, locking the door behind him.

 

Twenty-three days later, Remus came round. There was a low keening sound in the cell and it was a couple of minutes before he realised that he himself was making that noise; groaning with pain. His face felt swollen and battered; the right side of his body bruised to blackness. His neck, around and under the collar, was bleeding and raw to the extent that he barely dared move his head.

“What…?”

And, like flickers of pictures, memories came into his head, so that he would rather be still unconscious; rather not remember anything than have to deal with this. The transformation. The fury, as his wolf-self discovered his bonds. How he had flung himself at the walls, dragging, desperate to get free, as all control had left him and he had howled his anger aloud.

And all the time that figure standing on the other side of the bars, just watching.

Remus shut his eyes, but the images wouldn’t vanish so easily. He had bitten, he had clawed, he had scratched at the chain. He had tried to tear his neck free, and when that hadn’t worked, he had thrown himself with renewed desperation at the man who had stood just out of reach.

It had been years since he had lost control like that – years when the wolfsbane had transformed his body and allowed his mind to remain his own, with no one knowing the bitter relief and freedom he felt. Even before that, at least he had been spared the audience. Oh, once upon a time the Marauders had transformed with him, but that had helped; had placed some sense of his human reality on him. When he had been with them – Sirius, James, Peter, oh God, all dead – there had been some limits, some boundaries. He swallowed, trying to remove the lump in his throat. Last night there had been none, he had lacked any and all control; and Malfoy’s presence had served only to incite him, just as he had intended it to.

He realised, dully, that his hands were now chained behind his back. More than ever a prisoner, humiliation complete, it seemed. So he lay in the dirt that his wolf-self had scraped from the walls in his fury; lay in the sticky mess of his own blood; lay, and waited for his captor to return. And when he looked up, and saw that Lucius was already present, he felt numbly that he had no more left to lose. And he was wrong.

“How is the animal today?”

Lucius had been calling him that, not dignifying him with a name, for the past weeks. Remus hadn’t cared much; had felt certain that although Lucius could chain him, he could not take away his pride and humanity. Today, the certainty was not there, though he gathered up the shreds of pride he had left.

“Very well, thank you,” he said neutrally, but he couldn’t restrain the gasp of pain as the head of Malfoy’s cane tucked under his chin and pulled his head upwards. Lucius smiled maliciously.

“You lie. You’re half dead, animal. Barely able to crawl.” Malfoy removed the cane, and watched with undisguised satisfaction as Remus’s head flopped back uncontrollably. “So sad,” continued that cruel voice. “The wolf side won’t, and the man side can’t, destroy itself; yet you’re able to do this much damage.”

“Is that why you tied my hands? So that I couldn’t kill myself?” asked Remus, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Lucius’s grey eyes hardened, flinty cold.

“Oh no. I merely thought that it was time for the next stage of acknowledging what you are. You know now that you’re no more than a beast. So eat like one.”

He kicked a bowl of water towards Remus, followed by a plate of food. They lay within reach, but Remus made no attempt to go to them, though his throat was parched. The other man’s subtlety was beginning to become clear to him. With his hands tied behind him, the only way he could eat or drink was to grovel, lapping at the water, pushing his face directly into the food.

“I’m not hungry.”

“No?” It was clear that Malfoy knew he was lying – again. “You will be. And if I take these bowls away now, you’ll have to beg me for them when you want them. Will you enjoy that, animal? Do you like to beg?”

Remus turned a sick look of disgust at him, knowing he meant it. Knowing, too, that he had no choice. Painfully, he dragged himself the few inches to the water. Head down, he drank, feeling the cruelly amused eyes of his captor on the back of his neck as he did so. At least his awareness had been dulled in his wolf-state: on this occasion he was aware of everything, every second of humiliation. Even when he had drunk his fill, he could not get up; could not face Lucius on his own level. His body was too broken to stand; all he could do was lie at the other man’s feet.

“Yesterday the predator; today the obedient servant,” whispered Lucius viciously. “I wonder what tomorrow will bring.”

Remus did not look up, even as he heard Malfoy leave.

 

Remus’s body had always been quick to mend: the one positive legacy of his condition. By the time Lucius returned, four days later, the bruises were beginning to fade and the welts on his neck had scabbed over. Remus found he could move about now, though stiffly. He turned away as Malfoy entered the cell, aware of and ashamed by his nakedness as only Lucius could make him. He wasn’t sure what it was about Lucius that did this: whether it was the comparison between his fine robes and the dirtiness of his exposed body, or whether it was to do with the way Lucius looked at him – appraising, despising, as if he owned him, soul and body both. Owned him, but was disgusted by his filth.

As if to lend credence to this idea, Lucius spoke.

“Come here, animal.” Remus ignored him. “You are dirty. You stink. You are revolting.”

Remus knew it was true. He had tried to keep his bodily needs to a minimum, making an area as far away from his sleeping place as possible into his cess pit. But living in a small cell for nearly four weeks meant that he couldn’t get away from the smell of his own excrement. And with his hands tied, any attempts to clean himself in his water had been humiliating failures.

“Come here, and I will untie your hands so that you can clean yourself.” There was a fastidious note of revulsion in Lucius’s voice. “Surely even dogs wash?” he added derisively.

Remus’s fists clenched behind his back. That was his choice: do as Malfoy said, accepting the insults, or stay like this? He sickened himself as he was, but to obey Malfoy like a slave was surely unthinkable.

“Come!” instructed Lucius, and Remus, to his self-disgust, discovered that what had once been unthinkable was now possible, as he walked slowly towards his captor, trying to disguise the limp he still had. “Turn round;” and Remus did that too, wondering whether Lucius really would remove the chain on his wrists, or whether this was just another form of humiliation; and felt his heart beat faster as Lucius unlocked the links and set his hands free. There was a temptation to turn, to take Malfoy by the throat and throttle him, but he knew that he no longer had the strength to manage that, so instead he moved away from him, out of reach.

Malfoy walked back towards the cell door, and Remus wondered whether that was it: whether he was going to be left with the small amount of water left in the bowl to wash in. But once outside, Lucius threw him in a shovel and a sack.

“First you can deal with your mess,” he said, indicating the cess pit, and Remus knew the depths had come when he shoveled his own shit in front of this man. But he did it, because it would improve his lot. When instructed, he cleaned the floor with the equipment given, too, trying to work squatting so that he didn’t give the man the pleasure of watching him kneel on the floor to scrub. Finally, he was given a large basin of water, a sponge and a small towel. “Clean yourself.”

“Leave me alone, then.”

Malfoy’s sneer was back in evidence.

“Oh, I don’t think so. You can do it now, in front of me. Unless you’re hoping I’ll do it for you.”

“No.” Remus’s voice shook as he tried not to think about that. Instead, he obeyed orders and washed himself, trying to lose his awareness of those eyes which never wavered from watching him. Finally he was done, and dried, aware all over again of his wounds and his nakedness, both of which were clearly on view now the dirt had vanished. He looked up, and his eyes met Lucius’s, and were forced to stay there, looking into the grey depths until Lucius chose to allow him to look away. A small smile curved the man’s lips.

“And now…” he breathed, “Now for the last stage of your submission.”

He opened the cell door once more and walked back in to the newly cleaned room. Walked over to Remus until he could feel his breath on the side of his face, could smell the masculine scent of the man, so close was he.

“Do you know what’s going to happen now, animal?” he asked, his mouth close to Remus’s ear. Remus swallowed, but did not respond, and Lucius’s smile grew broader. “I’m going to fuck you.”

Remus took a step back, and despised himself even more for doing so.

“No,” he said again, refusing to let the note of pleading escape into his voice.

“Oh, don’t worry,” said that hateful voice. “I’m not going to hurt you. At least, not much. No, animal, you’re going to like it. You’re going to want it. You’re going to beg for it. You’re going to kneel in front of me and want to submit to me. And then I’ll know, and you’ll know, exactly what you are.”

Remus could feel the unsteady beat of his heart. This wouldn’t happen.

“No, that won’t happen.”

“No?” Lucius asked mockingly.

Then his mouth was on Remus’s, warm and firm, touching and teasing; and Remus realised that this was his first human contact since the war had ended. Lucius’s hands were touching his body, and Remus knew that he should move away; even took the first step to doing so until Lucius deepened the kiss, one hand behind his head, the other stroking down the planes of his body. 

“Come on, Remus,” he murmured; and it was the use of his name that broke him; that and the unbearable heat of his body where Lucius touched. And he responded, hands moving up to touch Lucius in return, mouth opening and giving under Lucius’s until his breathing was ragged and his heart racing. “You want this, don’t you?” breathed Lucius, his mouth hot on his ear, and Remus found himself responding as if drugged, muttering that yes, yes, he did. “And you’ll kneel down for me,” pressed Lucius, touching him again, more, until the world shifted about him.

“N-no,” gasped Remus, drawn back towards reality as the collar grazed against his newly healed neck. “No.” He tried once more to step away, unaware that the dazed, desperate look in his eyes told Lucius all he needed to know.

“Yes, yes,” mocked Lucius, taking him back so that their bodies touched all the way down; thrusting one silken-robed thigh between Remus’s naked ones. And his mouth was demanding once more of Remus’s, and Remus felt himself responding as if he could do nothing else; clinging to Lucius with frantic searching hands. “Kneel down,” Lucius urged again; and this time Remus was past the stage of doing anything but what Lucius wanted, and he found himself on the floor. “Do you want it?” asked Lucius once more. Remus nodded, hands reaching out pleadingly for Lucius; and then Lucius was there, touching him again, using his wand to provide lubrication before casting it aside. “Do you want it, animal?” he demanded, so that Remus knew just what was happening, what he was demanding, and knew that he still couldn’t help himself.

“Yes,” he said, in a breath of utter despair. “Yes, please… Master.”

And Lucius took him from behind, forcing his head down like the animal he knew he now was, thrusting into him until Remus cried out incoherently with the sensation; and cried again as he came, spasms running through him as the man withdrew and thrust again until he too was spent. Then he left, and Remus was left alone, knowing that all self-respect, all pride lay in the dirt, and that he himself had allowed it to happen. And that from this moment on, he really was no more than a creature, an animal, a beast. Lucius Malfoy owned him now.


End file.
